The Daemon grew, impossibly large. Already, it had expanded to the size of a skyscraper, and soon it would hit the edge of the massive cavern it had created for itself. A being of immense magical and physical power, and even as Teo ran up one of the arms, he could feel his cartoonium boots absorbing the shock of merely touching it. Throttling the being wasn't going to be an option - it's neck had the diameter of a bus, and most likely it didn't even need air. Then again, what else was there to do? There was no soul, there was no heart, there was nothing to really 'kill'. And yet, something had to be done.
A tiny red spark, a wave of energy that rushed through the room. A red star, blazing with the heat of a hundred nuclear bombs, boiling the air and burning the metal. Teo could feel it burn as he held it, his skin shrivelling and his hair being burnt from his scalp. A pale yellow glow consumed the metal not yet vaporized by the Daemon, as it started melting. A rain of molten steel fell from high above, casting rapidly moving shadows as they fell towards the center, disappearing once they got too close to the Daemon. Closing his eyes, he could feel the immense heat in the palm of his hand, all the power of a nuclear explosion focused into a single point.
As Teo stretched out his hand, this tiny point began to expand, his rage, his anger, his power focused. Guided forward, it expanded, growing hungrily even as the Daemon's fully attention turned towards to bug near it's neck.
It was too late.
A red flare enveloped the room, a flash of light brighter than the sun itself engulfed reality. For a moment, everything had ceased to exist, it was as if the Multiverse had ended just in that moment. A ringing scream, inhumanly ringing through the psychic spectrum, echoing in the depths of the mind like a bad memory. And as the light cleared, the Daemon became clear. Screaming, it thrashed, arms ripping through metal, blasts of magical energy eliminating all near it. It's face was burning, the source of it's screams, the bolt of plasma exploding right next to it, catching it off guard.
Teo was falling, burned and attempting to get his jet boots to function, his hair burnt away and his skin blackened.
But he had succeeded. There was an opening. There was a chance. As Drac stood, he felt the power in his hand solidify, green fire engulfing him, ancient translucent green chains floating around him, shattered. The very air shook, as he gathered his attack, the screams of a thousand angry souls could be heard to counter the sound of the Daemon itself.
One shot, one chance. All or nothing. The Daemon would heal, it would return, it would strike back. And Drac already knew he would not survive it's counterattack. The full force of such a being, directed solely at him, would level him in moments. And then, nothing would stand between the Daemon and the world.
You got one job, Drac. Don't fuck up.
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